“I don’t know,” she replied huffily. “I didn’t want to go around accusing a poor, innocent man if he’d done nothing wrong. I knew he owned this place, so I thought I’d come and check it out.”

“You should have informed me, or Don,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I’d have phoned if I found anything in the least bit incriminating.”

“You know there are right and wrong ways to conduct a search. And this is definitely the wrong way.” He frowned, but she didn’t care about his protocol, or needing a warrant, or whatever it was he was thinking. She was sick of this conversation, and wanted to get on with her search. He could follow her if he wanted, there wasn’t much she could do to stop him. She turned around to get her bearings.

The old cottage was next, separated from the shed by a patch of bare earth, filled with rutted potholes. The glass in all the windows was smashed, and most of them had been covered up with wood. The steps up to the front veranda were broken and sagging. It was made of wood, had been here a long time, and had never seen any tender, loving care. What the hell did Evan see in this place? it wasn’t friendly at all, and the buildings certainly weren’t worth keeping. The whole lot should be scrapped. Bulldozed. Start again. Sierra didn’t dare go up the steps onto the veranda, scared she might fall through the rotten boards.

Instead, she skirted around the outside, having to fight her way through piles of junk stacked up against the external wall. Reed said nothing more, but followed a few steps behind her. She knew he was right behind her, the tiny hairs on her arms raised to attention, awareness flooding her body.

There were old pieces of machinery, wire, metal piping, rotten boxes, amongst many other things. She wanted to go up and look in one of the two windows facing out on this side, but they’d both been boarded up. And she couldn’t get near enough because of the garbage, anyway. She kept going, pacing slowly and determinedly around to the back of the house, trying to block out the sound of Reed moving behind her. A single door was closed tight, with two steps leading up to it. Sierra went up and tried the door, but it was locked. She tried again, and let out a grunt of frustration. For an old, ramshackle place, it sure was hard to get into.

“You should let me do that,” Reed said from behind her.

She ignored him and kept going, right around to the other side of the house. Here, there were two more windows, staring blank and forbidding back at them. At least they weren’t covered over. She could see nothing from here; it was dark inside the cabin. Stepping gingerly over some broken slabs of concrete, she finally made it to the wall. If she stood on tiptoe, she could just see over the windowsill. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the deep shadows and dim corners. Nothing. There was nothing in there. Not a stick of furniture; the room was completely bare. This was nothing more than a dead end.

Reed came up beside her and took his own look into the house. He gave a quiet curse when he saw it was empty and then said, “You know, if we find anything, it will be inadmissible in court. We shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you let me—”

“Then why don’t you just leave?” Sierra snapped back at him.

She put her head down and returned to the back door. A strange relief flooded thorough her. Whatever she’d been expecting to find, it wasn’t here. Thank God. There was still one shed left, but she knew that would be empty, too. It’d all been a wild-goose chase. She and Reed could return to their prospective cars and drive away and never see each other again.

Then she noticed scuff marks in the grass, a few boot prints in the mud at the edge of the step leading up to the door. Someone had been here. Recently. Otherwise the rain would’ve washed the prints away. Was it Evan? Most likely, he did own the place after all. But what would he be doing in a run-down place like this? Then she looked up, gave the back door a closer examination. And noticed a new lock had been installed. That was strange. She pulled on the door again, making the door frame rattle and shudder, but the door wasn’t going to give. It was shut up tight. With a huff of annoyance, Sierra stood back and stared at the door. What should she do now?

“If you go in there, it would be considered breaking and entering,” Reed sighed from behind her. She wanted to turn around and tell him to go to hell.

But a noise, like a small bird, broke through Sierra’s anger. She lifted her head, tilted it to the side and listened intently. There it was again. This time, it sounded human. A young, high voice, belonging to a child. A girl.

“Hello?”

Sierra froze. Turned around to see Reed also rooted to the spot, listening.

“Hello? Is that my mum? I want my mum.” the voice called, thin and tremulous.

Holy fuck.

Was that Jessica?

They needed to get inside. She cast around for something to break the door down, and found a long metal pipe. Both she and Reed bent down to pick it up at the same time.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Sierra spun around at the sound of the voice. Reed was a little slower to turn, his hand going to his hip where his Smith & Wesson sat.

It was Evan, and he had a gun pointed at them.